


More Than You Know

by beetlejuiceflowers



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beetlejuice is a dick at times, F/M, Manager!Reader, Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetlejuiceflowers/pseuds/beetlejuiceflowers
Summary: You’re the manager of The Sandworm Devours, an up and coming rock band headed by the one and only Beetlejuice. You were close, but with more publicity comes more work for you both, and after a few one night stands you both drift apart. Attempts at reconnection followed by the startling realisation that you’re pregnant leads to angst.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, Rockstar!Beetlejuice
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	More Than You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This story is way too long for tumblr, so I figured I’d rather post it here. I hope you all enjoy it (:

When you’d first met Beetlejuice, he was an aspiring rockstar. His look was already perfect, his vocals were on point, and his band had a connection you don’t often see. So of course, you had to sign on as their manager when he asked you to. You’d been close, you always hung out with the band after concerts, celebrated with them and congratulated them on wowing the crowd. But the same thing that made you become their manager drew more and more people into their fanbase, and soon you were booking concerts for them everywhere. You got no rest, and you drifted apart from the band. No time to spend with them meant that you were less a friend and more a chaperone, telling them where to go while they went on, performed, and spent their nights partying and fucking groupies. You didn’t mind most of it, you were too busy to pay much attention anyways, but seeing Beetlejuice come in every day with hickeys littering his neck and that damned smirk on his face broke you in a way you didn’t think was possible before you’d signed on with him. You knew what you were getting into, knew that you’d catch feelings after you both slept together a couple times when the band was less known, but you couldn’t help it. He was a free bird, he didn’t get attached, and you didn’t want to drag him down. So you pushed your feelings down, pretended they weren’t there the best you could. Today was going to be a busy day for all of them, a three show day and in middle of their country wide tour. You’d planned everything out, spent lonely nights missing sleep, wedged between a beer and a two foot stack of paperwork. Not that any of them cared, as far as you knew. They were too busy enjoying the rockstar life they’d all worked so hard for, and of course they deserved it. After all, it was their performances that got them where they were. You just planned everything, packed everything with the help of a few roadies, made sure everything was set, etc. But you could do it, you just had two months left and you’d be able to relax. You felt like your nerves were fried from having to keep everything balanced every second of the day, so you were excited for the end of the tour. The band, on the other hand, would whine about how they wished it would never end. You sat in your hotel room, which was across from theirs, head in your hands. You were coming down with a cold, you just knew it. The complete lack of rest you’d forced yourself to endure left your immune system open to anything their grungier fans were carrying, but it was your job and you did it regardless of the consequences. Tomorrow was a travel day and you’d be able to rest, you could do it. You just had to get through today, the three show day. A knock on your door startled you into action, getting up and opening it to reveal a very hyped up BJ. “Babes! Are you excited? We’re gonna blow these people’s minds, three times!” You flinched at the loudness in his voice, shrugging and smiling the best you could. “Yeah, go get em”. He must’ve not liked your response, because his eyes narrowed a bit as he sized you up. “Woah, bag check. You need to take a nap or something.” You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes — barely — and shook your head a bit. “I’m fine, honestly. Just thinking. Go get ready, you all need to go soon.” He didn’t move, crossing his arms. “Babe. You’ve been like this for weeks. What’s going on?” What? Why was he choosing right now to confront you about this? “I said it’s nothing. Go get ready for the show” Your tone was sharper than you meant for it to be, and you flinched a little at the look that crossed his face. It was somewhere between hurt and confused, but then it morphed into anger, and you could see red strands of hair shining out from beneath his hair dye. “Jeez, sorry for fuckin caring, I guess.” Caring? That was caring? You snapped at him before you could stop yourself, eyes gleaming with a newfound rage to combat his, “Why don’t you let me do my job and do yours, which right now is what? Fucking some groupies or something, right? Have fun with that.” You slammed the door before he could see tears well in your eyes, locking it loudly before stomping back over to the desk and sitting down, returning to your position with your head in your hands, only this time you could feel your palms getting wet as silent tears slid down your cheeks. Never in your life had you been this emotional over anything, why were you now crying in a hotel room over a grungy guy who’s band you managed, for God’s sakes. 

BJ stood outside your door, seething and shifting back and forth on his feet. His hand was poised to rap on your door, to make you come back and fucking explain yourself, but he couldn’t do it. What were you even talking about? Yeah, he fucked groupies, that was kinda a thing people in his line of work did. It was a perk, in his mind. Maybe you missed fucking him, honestly he missed you too, fucking you and otherwise, but you’d been so busy that he’d barely had the time to really sit down and talk to you in weeks. He loved you, but that was something he was loathe to admit. He was a fucking rockstar, he could have literally any chick he wanted. But he didn’t want any of them, he just wanted you. Perfect, sweet, you. You were in a different league than him, though. Always had been, always would be in his mind, so he tried to nip his feelings in the butt as quickly as he could. If you were going to talk to him like that, though, then maybe he’d keep the silent streak going. His ego rode over his other emotions in that moment, turning on his heel to go get dressed. Fucking groupies was his job..what did you know? He was grumbling as he walked back into his room, cursing you and cursing the fact that you were right and you both knew it. 

The three show day went smoothly, but you were a wreck by the end of it. One of the stage managers had mistaken you for a techie and started screaming at you because one of the mics weren’t working. He didn’t seem to calm down even when you explained that you were the band manager, not that cursing out a techie would ever be okay. He was a fairly burly guy, too, towering over you as he shouted, a vein popping out of his forehead. Apparently it didn’t actually matter to him whether you were a techie or not, he just wanted someone to fix the mic, and wasn’t taking no for an answer. Beetlejuice had left their backstage dressing room to get some water and happened to pass by the room you and the stage manager were in, stopping when he heard the shouting paired with your familiar voice. He barely avoided being slammed with the door as it was whacked open, the manager storming out. Despite your currently rocky relationship, he couldn’t help but peek in just to ask what the hell was going on. He blanched as he saw you standing with your face in your hands, trembling like a leaf with the unmistakable sounds of muffled sobbing emanating from you. A pang of guilt went through him, sharp and painful as he crossed the threshold quickly, standing in front of you as if not sure what to do. “Do people yell at you like that a lot?” He finally asked, tone soft. Your head shot up, a panicked look crossing your wet face. “Beej—fuck. I mean..yes. It’s okay, I’m just..on my period or something, I don’t know.” Actually, you hadn’t had your period for two months, but you’d been trying not to think about that too much. “Christ, babes..I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise..” He was never one for apologies, but it was starting to hit him just how much you’d been overdoing yourself. “We should hang out after the concert tonight, just us.” You wiped at your eyes quickly with the heels of your hands, brows furrowing. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, lil old me will be just fi—“ “I want to. Please?” He cut you off, giving you a look that might’ve melted your heart if you weren’t so embarrassed at being caught in such an emotional state. You couldn’t help the way a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, nodding after a moment of silence. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Let’s do that.” He made good on that promise, coming up to your hotel room after the concert, as quickly as he could, and laying in bed with you as you two watched some stupid movie. It was nice to hang out with him again, to be able to enjoy his company just like old times. Like all good things, it came to an end as you fell asleep, head lolling onto his shoulder as the movie credits rolled. Beetlejuice felt himself tense at the sudden weight, but relaxed when he saw that you were asleep. “Goodnight, y/n..”, He reached out a hand, brushing some hair behind your ear that had fallen into your face, then frowned. He couldn’t do this, not with his manager. Slowly, he shifted so that you were laying in your bed by yourself, slipping out of the room quietly and making his way back down to whatever afterparty was still raging in the hotel lobby. 

The first thing you did the next morning was run into the bathroom as fast as your wobbly legs could carry you and vomit up everything you’d eaten in the past day, which wasn’t much due to your busy schedule. Maybe it was too early to be drawing conclusions, but this tipped the scale for you. A phone call and fifteen minutes of tense waiting later, you heard a knock on your hotel room door and opened it to find your friend, a small plastic bag in her hand. “Thank you so much for this..” You offered her a grateful smile, which she returned, handing you the bag. You pulled out a pregnancy test, slipping into the bathroom to set it up. There were hours before you’d have to leave, choosing to let the crew handle the majority of the packing just this once wouldn’t ruin everything, right? Time seemed to slink by as you sat next to your friend outside the bathroom door, waiting for the test to be ready. As soon as the timer she’d set on her phone went off, you raced into the bathroom, picked up the test and...froze. Etched into the white strip were two unmistakable red lines. A weight dropped into your stomach. No, not now. You knew who’s child it was, of course. You hadn’t slept with anyone except Beetlejuice for..basically a year. It had to be his. You didn’t leave the bathroom, unable to stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks, fast and terrified. He didn’t even think of you in that way, what would the band say if they knew? Would they fire you? What would /he/ say? He’d probably be angry, that’s what you concluded. Angry that you hadn’t been careful enough, angry that you’d waited this long to take a test. As far as you knew, your career was about to be over, at least with this band you’d come to love so much. You’d put so much effort into them, building their rep from the ground up, and now it was going to fall apart because of you. The tile floor was cool as you sank against it, sobbing into your knees. That was enough of an answer for your friend, who came in and sat next to you silently, rubbing your back and assuring you that everything would be okay. All too soon, you had to bid her goodbye as you packed up to board the tour bus, heart aching and nerves on end.


End file.
